Scrimmage
by Miss Anthrope
Summary: Draco Malfoy dug his fingernails deep into the palms of his hands, watching the Bulgarian beater getting more taken by Pansy than the game. Who did this Volkov think he was? Wait, was he...no, Draco was sure he wasn't. Afterall, Malfoys never get jealous.


**Title: **Scrimmage

**Author:** Miss Anthrope

**Disclaimer: **Characters used belong to JK Rowling; the dialogue and other information not taken from her books are proudly mine.

**Rating: **K for Kaleidoscope

**Warning(s):** I won't say anything more than there's no mpreg, slash, and lemon scenes.

**Author's Note(s):** I wrote this for FictionAlley's February Challenge with the prompt 'Volkov went to a quidditch match with Pansy'. Oh, and just to clear up the setting of this story, it's a little something that happened before Book 4.**  
Dedication(s):** A big thanks to **RemusJLupin** who had been kind enough to help me with the summary and to those who enjoyed reading this.

**Summary:** Draco Malfoy dug his fingernails deep into the palms of his hands, watching the Bulgarian Beater getting more taken by Pansy than the game. Who did this Volkov think he was? Wait, was he actually-- no, Draco was sure he wasn't. Afterall, Malfoys never get jealous.

* * *

After weeks of relentless downpours, a crisp summer morning was— to say the least— a most welcomed sight to all. Fluffy white clouds that could easily remind one of generous dollops of cream embellished the otherwise clear azure sky. There was only a slight breeze to the air and the sun that hung brightly above, didn't do so enough to blind. Overall, it was a beautiful day made to be spent laying lazily on the grass, strolling down the streets of Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley, or as the Department of Magical Games and Sports thought, for a friendly game of quidditch.

Luckily for those English fanatics, it just so happened that Ludo Bagman had found himself in the company of the Ireland team's coach and Maximus Brankovitch, seeker and captain for the Fitchburg Finches, not more than a day prior. They had merely been talking about the approaching Quidditch World Cup over some Ogden's when, still in good spirits, the three men had the brilliant idea of having a scrimmage as a sort of teaser for the fans weeks before the actual main event.

Wizards and witches alike milled into a large stadium; some were casual in their team shirts and holding brightly colored banners as they took seats among the crowds, while others looked a little out of place in their more lavish day clothes as though they had lost their way from tea parties or a relaxing brunch in one of their estates.

Pansy Parkinson, a well-known heiress among the affluent families, was, as to be expected, one of those select few who had found themselves seated at the top box not far from the Minister. She herself never really found the game of quidditch to be the slightest interesting but was, admittedly, one of those girls who did occasionally pretend in a very convincing manner to glimpse merely at the players. Pansy laid her hands neatly on the skirt of her ecru sundress as she re-crossed her ankles and straightened her hat in boredom. It was one of those few occasions where her mother and polite society allowed Pansy to wear something by their standards, revealing, as the hem stopped abruptly before the knees and boasted large prints of a flower done in a bright color like the blue she had been inclined to wear that day. It was refreshing for someone who had been forced into layers of robes and dresses fashioned liberally with heavy velvets to feel the cool wind against skin that had been warmed to a degree by the sun.

Few minutes passed without any change to the sound of chattering around her when Pansy heard the distinct sound of a cane tapping the ground as footsteps echoed from the hidden stairwell beside her. Just in time to answer her suspicions, the imposing form of Lucius Malfoy appeared before her followed closely by his wife, Narcissa, and a usually smug Draco. Respectful greetings were interchanged between families, including her own, which eventually led to a certain fellow fourteen year old Slytherin asking for her hand to kiss. The amusement that glimmered in Draco's eyes when she noted him cast a look at her dress was received appropriately by a discreet glare on Pansy's part. It wasn't that she didn't get along well with the Malfoy heir, but be it as it may they were close companions, he was still a pureblood, Slytherin, and a _Malfoy_ nonetheless.

"Good morning, Pansy," said he as her hand was turned over, allowing Draco to barely brush his lips against her knuckles. "I trust that you've been having enjoying your vacation since last we met?"

The formalities that came along with power and position was never one that Pansy enjoyed, but for the sake of her family's name, she played along as smoothly as expected. "Father had brought mother and I to Italy for the past two weeks. Mother had supposedly fallen in love with the view and suggested that we buy our own residence in the area, thus insisting on a new villa in Florence. And yourself?"

"Unlike you, I merely spent the past days at home in the manor getting settled in; however, Mother and Father are looking into a vacation in France if their schedules permit."

Silence hung for a moment as a tacit understanding was made between the two and instantly concurred that there was more to it than was mentioned. Narcissa gestured for her son to take his seat, and with a final bowing of heads, Draco headed to his parents on the other side of the row of seats.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen to today's quidditch match! We have been told that the bout of rainstorms we've been experiencing is a long past phase of this season's weather, and so poses no threat to this game between the United State's Fitchburg Finches and Ireland." The booming voice of the announcer echoed throughout the arena. Shouts and cheers followed as the teams flew out and each member was introduced, while Pansy and those around her showed their enthusiasm with a short clapping of hands.

The snitch had just been released with barely ten minutes elapsing when the young Parkinson once again found herself in a state of ennui. She had already taken a glance at the fourteen players and finding none to her liking, attempted to keep up the pretense of enjoying herself by looking craftily at others as though she were watching the match. Pansy let her eyes land at last at Draco and found him, much to her disappointment, thoroughly engrossed at the scene before them. Taking in once more her company, Pansy couldn't find anyone looking as bored as she as some society matrons had begun whispering quietly among themselves, while her mother and Lady Malfoy pretended to the point of conviction that they too were interested in the game as their husbands.

"Excuse me," a deep and obviously male voice startled Pansy just as she had found a comfortable position in her seat to sleep in. Prepared with a rather unflattering scowl on her face, she turned to tell off whoever had decided to disturb her when the look immediately fell of her face. "Is this seat taken?"

Pansy mutely gazed at the plush chair next to her where she had carefully laid her purse. She had not even the chance to reply when her mother had turned to her direction for a short word.

"Pansy, dear, do remember to—" Adelaide Parkinson paused as she noticed the burly figure of a man standing next to her daughter. A moment passed as she sifted through her knowledge on family trees and found that she could not place a name to the face before her. "Adelaide Parkinson, and you are?"

"Volkov, the beater for the Bulgarian national team," provided Mister Parkinson as he shook the young player's hand. "I am Arcturus Parkinson, I believe I have met you and your teammates in the Ministry last week in Cornelius' office."

During this time, Pansy still had not uttered a word and merely watched as those around her took notice of the newcomer. Some, too, began to introduce themselves to the Bulgarian who she just realized, had a much softer brogue than their seeker, Viktor Krum, who she had the pleasure of an introduction before. He was attired in simple khaki slacks and a button up shirt that hinted of the muscles he had gained most especially in the arms as he flexed and relaxed it with every handshake. His physical difference from most boys she had been exposed to was emphasized when Draco had risen from his seat and stepped up to Volkov to formally introduce himself; while those males she had grown up had lanky, or at best, lean frames save for the occasional Crabbe, Goyle, or Bulstrode, the one before Pansy had a body strong from grueling exercises. She was fascinated to say the least, and by the look Draco had given her, he noticed.

Pansy was curious as to the lingering look Draco gave her as he slowly went back to his seat but this quickly disappeared as she realized Volkov—as he had been introduced—was still waiting for a reply. It looked particularly awkward to see someone of his height tower above those who had gone back to the game, and so with the approval of her parents, Pansy allowed him the seat beside her. Calm pervaded the group for some time, and just as she was thinking of a topic to converse about, Volkov beat her to it

"Thank you, by the way." Pansy slowly shifted to face him but ceased as she saw his dark eyes trained on her. A faint blush rose to her cheeks and for once, she was thankful for the hat she had thought to be ridiculously oversized but was now the shield for her face. Thankfully, Volkov didn't seem to notice the fact that she was intentionally hiding her face and Pansy waited for him to continue. "I suppose that you're name is Pansy? I hope I heard it right."

She was quiet for a moment as she listened carefully to his voice tinged with a foreign accent, a small shiver of delight running through her spine. Pansy nodded her confirmation before raising her head after making sure that her face was no longer flushed. "Yes, my name is Pansy," she offered her hand much like she did earlier, "Pansy Parkinson."

To her surprise, this stranger not only took her hand into his, but also brought it to his lips and laid a small kiss. Pansy still felt his larger and calloused fingers on her own even after she laid them back onto the armrest, a small bubble of excitement swelling up within her.

"I am Caspar Volkov," he bowed his head a little before continuing. "As your father mentioned, I play beater in my country's quidditch team."

"May I ask as to why you are here today when your game is still due to be during the World Cup?"

A hint of a smirk appeared on Caspar's face, but it was his answer that appealed to Pansy more. "You are right, but our coach has heard that it will be the Irish team we're facing off weeks from now."

"Ah, and so you've decided to stop by today and watch a game of quidditch." She wore a smile as she replied, now more interested with this new acquaintance than before. "How very…cunning of you. If you had gone to Hogwarts, I'm almost quite certain that Slytherin would be the house for you."

"Would I be correct in guessing that you are in Slytherin?"

"Through and through."

The two momentarily stopped their conversation and looked as if they were studying the other, assessing as best they could weaknesses, strengths, wit, and all others that should always be taken into consideration. From the corner of her eye, Pansy spotted Draco still in his seat but upon closer inspection, had his eyes turned subtly in her direction. She raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow but was only returned with a casual tilt of the head.

"I suppose that I'm once again correct in guessing that you and Draco Malfoy are together?"

The question stunned Pansy as she re-directed her attention once more to Caspar. "No, you're wrong there. He and I are more of close associates than anything else." Her thoughts reeled back to the past school year and barely suppressed a frown as Pansy recalled how she had acted towards Draco. It really was shameful, the way she had practically glued herself to his side and acted like some airhead Hufflepuff and not the well-mannered girl she had been taught to be. Pansy didn't know whether to be thankful or enraged when she had stumbled upon Draco complaining to his cronies about how annoying she was since, painful or not, it had been a turning point in her life when she decided that a silly schoolgirl crush wasn't worth as much as her pride. The very next day, Pansy had instantly dropped her routine and began to reinstate herself as the old Slytherin queen she had first been known and hated for.

"I'm sorry, but I find that quite hard to believe." He glanced at her and then at something above her head, Draco, she guessed. "By the way he's been staring our way, I'm almost half certain that he'll be coming here any moment to warn me to keep away from his girlfriend."

"Don't be." Pansy carelessly threw her hair behind her shoulder and moved a tad closer to Caspar to spite Draco if he really was still looking. "I am in no way his and am not even a friend."

"Well in that case, he wouldn't mind me talking to you like this." Volkov reclined in his chair, much like her, and moved closer so that both were almost meeting across the separating armrest between them. This move was received by Pansy with a smile, but unknown to them, Draco didn't share the same sentiments and proceeded to fist his hands within his pockets. "So, if you don't mind me asking, what are some of your interests—aside from quidditch that is?"

"Quidditch really isn't a pastime of mine." Taking in the questioning look, Pansy expounded. "I actually only came here today with the request of my mother after our family had been invited by the Minister to sit in the top box beside him." She gauged the reaction of Caspar and found that he wasn't at all affronted despite the fact that he was a professional player. "I do, however, enjoy a good book and most especially those that have significant spells or potions."

"Really? I would think that someone like you would enjoy something more than just reading."

"I do have other passions, but how can I trust someone I've only met?"

"Well then, we'll have to remedy that, won't we?" A wolfish smile settled itself into his handsome face and revealing a perfect set of pearly whites. "I find you very interesting, Miss Parkinson, and hope that with time, you'll be able to answer all my questions about you."

"Perhaps," Pansy moved her eyes back to the game and found that the seekers were already flying about in search for the snitch. "That is only if you are given another chance after this, Mister Volkov."

His expression did not waver as he, instead of following her lead, proceeded to once more study the blonde-haired witch beside him. "Exactly how old are you, Pansy?"

"Shouldn't you be more concerned with the game? I doubt your coach would be very pleased to find you empty handed from what should have been a fruitful excursion." She had not turned back to face Caspar and refused to answer his question despite the silence that begged for her to fill.

"Alright then, I accept the challenge, Miss Parkinson. So, what will it take for me to meet you again after this?"

A small smile made it's way to Pansy's face as she slowly diverted herself to him. "Well, I was thinking of—"

A sudden burst of applause, hollering, boos, and cheers exploded all around the stadium, even those around her rising from their seats to celebrate the spectacular win of the Irish team. On cue, Pansy also brought herself up next to her mother and flashed smiles at those who, obvious from their grins, had just won a hefty sum of galleons in bets for today's game.

"You were saying?" Volkov spoke loudly through the noise and once again, just as she was about to answer, another external factor interrupted them successfully.

The surprisingly hot fingers of one Draco Malfoy was immediately felt by Pansy on her bared shoulder and ended any trail of words that had planned on escaping her mouth. The heat of his stare made her even more uncomfortable as though he was branding her with his eyes.

"Pansy, my parents have invited yours and Minister Fudge to go back to Wiltshire so that they may continue their discussion. Mother sent me to go fetch you so that we may be there promptly." His words were as usual, a lazy drawl, albeit clipped from what Pansy could hear. After over nine years of sharing his company, and one spent on obsessing over his every tone and movement, she had learned the subtle changes that were unnoticeable to all and revealed the undertones of emotions Malfoys often kept to themselves.

"I suppose we'll just have to wrap this conversation then." His smile had yet to fade, and with an amusing flourish, Volkov once more asked for her hand which he once more kissed, save this time a second or two longer than what was necessary. The hand on Pansy's shoulder gripped tighter for a moment before it moved down to her back. "I guess I shall just hope to see you again soon, perhaps in the coming Quidditch World Cup. I doubt it will be any trouble finding each other, most especially someone as captivating. Just so you know, Pansy, I am keeping my word about my acceptance of that challenge." With another bow, this time to be received by the Malfoy, Caspar left with another group of people down the stairs.

It was only moments after the grand departure that Pansy felt Draco's hand in its new position, previously unaware of it moving. Grabbing a hold of her purse, she waited to be led to the exit but found that Draco did not move or seem to have any plans to do so.

"What do you want, Draco?"

"An explanation would be a good way to start." Now that they were alone, neither felt the need to keep up any façade and carried the conversation in the way they had been taught not to do, but did when they were alone. Without anyone to reprimand either of raising their voices or cursing, Pansy and Draco were able to vent all the anger and feelings they felt but never shared with anyone else.

"There's nothing to explain."

"That's not what I think." Draco settled himself onto the seat Volkov had vacated. "What was happening between you and the Bulgarian beater?"

"I really fail to see how any of this is _your_ business."

Frustration flashed onto the typically neutral face of the Malfoy, something that would have made most people recoil in fear of what could come next. Everyone, except Pansy. "Everything you do _is_ my business, Parkinson! It's no secret what agreements our families have regarding us."

For once in a very long time, Pansy was out of words. It had been one of those unspoken concords that neither of them were to ever bring up, unless necessary, the topic of an arranged marriage between their families. There had not been any concrete evidence or admissions from either parties, but the two—as well as others— had always sensed there was a reason why they had been paired off together since they could remember. Despite the fact that she was encouraged to associate herself with the likes of Blaise and the Flints, Pansy found that her mother always made sure that she shared her first and last dance with Draco; likewise, he too had been introduced to dozens of other pureblood witches not only limited to Europe, but noted that it would constantly be Pansy who was the last name to be mentioned.

It seemed as though he himself was astounded at what he'd said and also momentarily loss his composure. "I did not mean to bring that up," Draco paused as Pansy nodded in silent agreement from where she stood near him. "All I wanted to say was that if our assumptions are truly correct, I cannot stand by, watching my betrothed openly flirting with a man among family and friends."

"I was _not_ flirting!" Pansy replied in indignation as she fixed her hat above her head once more.

Draco made an incredulous sound and looked at her strangely. "You were nearly drooling over yourself with excitement."

"I might concede that I was a bit flirting, but drooling? _I think not!_"

"You looked ready to jump his bones if it wasn't for all those people!"

"Well, why were you looking in the first place?" Pansy countered as she waited for the barely noticeable shift of his eyes that indicated his discomfort. "I would've thought that with you so eager to watch a game like this, you wouldn't even bother glancing in my direction unless Dementors had taken me."

"How could I not look? Like I said before, I won't stand for my betrothed doing something like that in such a public occasion." Draco looked smug with his answer and proceeded with another question. "Second of all, what is this challenge I heard him say?"

"Nothing of importance."

"I doubt that very much, Pansy." A dark look shadowed his face as he spat out the words like there was literally owl dung in his mouth. "I don't trust him, and if it has something to do with _Volkov _meeting you in the World Cup—"

"Caspar hasn't done you any offense, Draco! What is your—"

"_Caspar?_ So you're on _first name basis_ with a complete stranger now?"

"Gods, don't be such an arse! Caspar is not a stranger at all, in fact you actually knew who he was. He's a professional quidditch player in a team that practically all of the wizarding world knows!" Pansy took a deep breath and calmed herself with a few intakes of air.

"We should've headed to the manor earlier. Mother might be worried as to what happened to the both of us." All traces of anger was gone as Draco stood and began leading his fellow Slytherin outside.

Just as they were about to leave the darkened tunnel, Pansy mused out loud. "You know, with the way you acted, and if I don't know for a fact that you don't have that type of feeling for me, I would've thought that you were—for once—actually jealous of someone, Draco."


End file.
